Trouble In Bloom

We said our good-byes to Kit and BeBe. Ana had barely buckled her seat belt and started the car before saying, "Kit told me about the picket guy's phone number. Let's call it!"

  "I don't know. What do we say?"

  She reversed. "If someone answers, just ask who you're talking to. And if they don't answer, even better, because then their name will probably be on the voice mail."

  It sounded logical to me. Pulling the number out of my bag, I punched it into my cell phone. Butterfl ies filled my stomach. The phone rang and rang, then switched to voice mail. I hung up.

  "Well?"

  "Nothing. Just that canned voice-mail voice reciting the number I called."

  Excited, she said, "Maybe we can flush him out."

  I shifted to face her. "Are you nuts?"

  "Some, but so are you. What's the harm in it?"

  "Oh, let me think." I tapped my chin. "This person could be a serial killer?"

  She laughed. "We're not going to let him see us! Listen. We call, say something like, we know what you did, tell him to meet us at, oh, Eden Park at eleven P.M. We go, we park at the art museum and hide out until he arrives. Then we see who it is, get back in our car, and go from there."

  "You know, you've been watching way too many criminal shows. Things never work out like that. Besides, all we know for sure is that the person who owns this number hired the picketers. Nothing else. Could be completely innocent. Heck, maybe Thad did kill Genevieve, then himself."

  Ana flew down the on ramp to 75 south. "You haven't heard?"

  "Heard what?"

  "Where have you been all day?"

  "Out! What happened?"

  "The autopsy on Thad was done this morning. Thad was

  murdered. Strangled, just like Genevieve. The noose was just a ruse." She laughed. "That rhymes."

  "You haven't been drinking tequila, have you?" I was suddenly reminded of bags, hags, and nags.

  "What? No. Why?"

  "Just curious."

  "And now the police are saying that Thad wasn't a suspect in Genevieve's death. Louisa came forward and said she'd seen Genevieve alive after Thad had left her in the hot tub. She signed some papers for the FedEx guy—they have the exact time. Apparently Louisa knew all about the love fest going on at Hitched or Ditched. They paid her well to keep her mouth shut."

  If Louisa could resist telling all to Bobby, then she was paid really well. "This is just bizarre."

  She changed lanes, sped up. "I guess Sherry was right after all. I wonder if her appearance with Carson last night led to the M.E. taking a good look."

  "I'd like to think the M.E. would have figured it out on his own."

  "I think Carson deserves some of the credit."

  "I think you're too gaga over Carson to see straight."

  "He's really cute."

  "And leaving town."

  "I could use a new job . . . "

  "Analise Maria Bertoli! Would you leave here?"

  "I don't know. Maybe. If he asked."

  "Do you really love him?"

  "Is there such a thing as love?"

  "Don't you sound jaded."

  She shrugged. "I like him a lot."

  By the way he looked at her, he liked her too. I decided not to think about her moving. Denial was a good place in my book. "So, Thad was murdered."

  "That means whoever that phone number belongs to could be our killer."

  "But Sherry said no one at Hitched or Ditched hired the picketers."

  "Do you believe her?"

  "Why wouldn't I?"

  "Maybe she's trying to hide her involvement? Maybe she offed good old Thad because he was boffing Gen."

  "Then why would she go on TV?"

  "To try and deflect the blame. Right now, Carson's painted her as a grieving widow, but we know better."

  That we did.

  My toes were squished inside my boots. They started to ache. "She's not strong enough to get Thad up on that catwalk."

  "Willie is."

  "Willie? Maybe? But I don't know if he had time. He was with the TV execs . . . But who else could it be?"

  "Jessica?"

  "She did want Thad's limelight. And revenge against Genevieve."

  "The look of horror on her face was too real. She's not that good of an actress, trust me."

  "Louisa?"

  I loved that theory. I had no evidence whatsoever to back it up, but I loved it.

  "Let's call the number!" Ana said.

  Just then my cell phone rang. Saved by Madonna. Or rather, Maria. "Hello?"

  "I figured it out, Nina!"

  "What?"

  "How I know that Jessica girl."

  "Oh?"

  "Remember I did the Cincinnati Ballet's bicentennial party a few years ago?"

  "Vaguely."

  "That's where I know her from. She was one of their prima ballerinas. I didn't recognize her hair because she had one of those little caps on her head, with her hair pulled back in a bun that only prima ballerinas can get away with wearing. Anyhoo, that's not the interesting part."

  "Oh?"

  "What's with the ohs?" Ana asked. "Who's that?"

  "Maria," I said.

  "What?" Maria asked.

  Not this again. "Ana's with me. She was wondering who I was talking to."

  "Maybe I should call back later when she's not there."

  At her guarded tone, my stomach started to ache. "Why?"

  She said, "I went back through my scrapbook. SoSceCinci did a huge spread on that party. In one of my pictures, there's a ballerina in the background kissing a man." She paused for dramatic effect. "The ballerina was Jessica, the man Carson Keyes."

  I gasped. "The ballet slipper tattoo!"

  "Right."

  "What are you two talking about?" Ana demanded. "Carson?"

  "Shh!" I said to Ana.

  Maria went on. "I did some checking and found out they've been dating for a couple of years and have always been hush-hush about their relationship. Only a few people knew about it. My contact said they really wanted to keep their private lives private."

  I stole a look at Ana, my heart sinking.

  "And get this," Maria said, "they broke up about two months ago, right before Jessica was fired from Hitched or Ditched."

  Suddenly I remembered what Perry had said. That she had broken up with her boyfriend for Thad . . .

  That boyfriend must have been Carson.

  Maria said, "My contact at the station said Jessica dumped Carson because she has big dreams and wants a big budget to achieve them. Carson wasn't cutting it. How's that for irony, just before she gets canned? Cosmic justice, that's what that is."

  I didn't share the news about Jess's relationship with Thad, and wondered about this new twist. "Failing? I thought his career was thriving? Most popular, blah blah . . . "

  "Damn it!" Ana whined.

  "Shhh!"

  "Hype," Maria said. "His career had been stagnating for a while now. Too much of the same old, same old. They wanted someone younger, hipper. Before these murders, Carson was about to be fired from Channel 18, according to the news director there."

  "And you know this how?"

  "The news director is Nate's racquetball buddy. Now Channel 18 is racing to keep Carson from leaving."

  "They lost that race," I said, thinking of Inside Edition.

  "Well, maybe now Carson will get Jessica back. Sounds like they deserve each other. Tell Ana I said sorry. Gotta go. Nate's waiting in the hot tub. Au revoir!"

  Ana pounded the steering wheel. "What is going on?"

  "Let's, ah, pull off the highway."

  She looked at me like she was about to argue, then took the next off ramp. She sped into the parking lot of a movie theater, slammed on the brakes, unbuckled her seat belt and turned to face me.

  I unbuckled my seat belt too. Just in case I needed to make a run for it.

  Slowly, I told her what Maria had told me.

  Ana slumped in her seat. After a long quiet min
ute she said, "Maria didn't see the bigger picture, did she?"

  It was more statement than question. "No."

  "Hand it over," Ana said.

  I knew what she was talking about. I rummaged around my handbag, found the phone number. I passed it over to her.

  She took one look at it and a tear slipped out of her eye. She nodded. "He hired the picketers."

  I speculated. "To boost the ratings of Hitched or Ditched, which in turn would boost his ratings on Channel 18 since he was behind the scenes all week." A desperate attempt to secure his job.

  "Or get Jessica back, but why kill anyone?"

  "Maybe he saw his opportunity to go national, to maybe get that big job Jessica wanted him to have. Genevieve made it easy with the death threats."

  "And," Ana said, "killing Genevieve got Jessica her job back too, didn't it?"

  "Why kill Thad, though?" I wondered aloud.

  "He was the only media outlet on scene when Thad died. Can you get much more of a scoop than that? It's probably what propelled Inside Edition to hire him, to capitalize on his current popularity. Do you think Jessica knew what he was doing?"

  I shook my head. "You should have seen her face when she saw Thad dangling above her. She didn't know. About that, at least. About the other stuff? I'm not sure."

  Ana drew in a deep breath. "Wait. I thought you didn't see Thad, that you were in the soundproof room?"

  "Now's not the time to get into that . . . You okay?"

  She must not have been, because she didn't press about Thad's body. Instead, she said, "Yeah. Let's go."

  "To the party?" Was she crazy?

  "To the police station."

  Twenty-Five

  A week later I sat on my couch, watching the breaking news coverage of Carson's arrest on MSNBC .

  He'd finally gone national.

  It was late, well past nine. BeBe's head rested on my lap. Kit was out (I didn't know where), and Riley was down at Mrs. Greeble's, changing a lightbulb. She was paying him altogether too much—he was flashing cash left and right, and he'd promised not to accept anything from her tonight.

  BeBe's ears perked as my phone rang. Reaching over her massive body, I plucked the phone from the coffee table, looked at the caller ID, and answered by saying, "Are you watching it?"

  "I hate that he looks so good," Ana said.

  "I know."

  "Men suck."

  "Not all."

  "Like who?"

  "Bobby."

  "He's different."

  "How?"

  "I don't know, he just is."

  "Kit," I pointed out.

  "He's different too."

  I sighed. "Fine. All men suck."

  "Thank you."

  "You okay?" I muted the TV.

  "Yeah. I'm gonna go take a hot bath."

  "No date tonight?"

  "Nah. I've sworn off men. I think I'm going to try some self-discovery stuff."

  "Lord help us all."

  She laughed. "Overall, it seems to have worked for you."

  It had. "You know I love you just the way you are."

  "I know. I'll call tomorrow. Have fun tonight!" she said before hanging up.

  Tonight. My Big Night with Bobby.

  My phone rang again. I smiled at the caller ID. "Hello?"

  "Do you see the tie Carson Keyes is wearing? Hideous."

  "Perry, not everyone has the taste you do."

  "Very very true. He does look good, though. Pity he's a murderer." I heard someone in the background. "What? Can't you see I'm on the phone . . . Fine. Nina?"

  "I'm here."

  "Mario says hello."

  I laughed. "Hi back."

  "What?" he hollered. "Yes! She says hi back."

  "Perry, I've been thinking."

  "Scary."

  "I know. You and Mario have done so much for me, making me over and all, let me do a garden makeover for you both next spring, my treat of course."

  "Thank the Lord! We never thought you'd volunteer! Mario! Mario! She offered!" I heard whooping in the background, and I laughed.

  "You two are crazy."

  "We know. You still coming for dinner tomorrow night?"

  "I'll be there."

  "I'll set an extra place just in case."

  "Thanks."

  "Good luck, sugar."

  I hung up. BeBe looked at me. "It's almost time," I said to her.

  She licked my chin.

  "Thanks, I needed that."

  I turned up the volume on the news, trying to drown out my nerves.

  The anchor recapped the case against Carson, including some newly disclosed DNA evidence from the noose that pretty much sealed it. The reporter said sources inside Cincinnati's police department believed Carson had lured Thad up on the catwalk under the pretense of taping a teaser for his segment that night.

  Jessica was still being investigated as an accomplice, but had thus far been cleared of any wrongdoing. She'd just signed a big contract to stay on with Hitched or Ditched. Fox had picked up the show for the fall season and was going to have an American Idol type show this winter to find a new host.

  Ana and I had been right on the money regarding Carson's motive. The murders had been about cementing his career and getting his name in the limelight.

  Apparently, the motivation had nothing to do with winning Jessica back. Rather, he'd been trying to show her up. Show her what she'd lost. An in-your-face kind of thing.

  Looked like that plan backfired.

  The doorbell rang and BeBe leapt to her feet, woofing so loud the whole neighborhood probably heard.

  Peeking out, I saw the pizza delivery man fairly shaking on the porch. Cracking the door, I heard him say, "Please tell me that's one of those recorded barks?"

  A big black paw reached out through the crack.

  He jumped back, nearly dropping the pizza.

  "Here," I said, handing him twenty bucks. "Do me a fa- vor—deliver the pizza across the street. The house with the U-haul and Harley in the driveway."

  "I'm thinking you're doing me the favor!" He took off down the stairs.

  Stronger, thanks to my new soccer league, I pushed BeBe backward and closed the door. She rose up, putting her paws on my shoulders.

  "Down," I said.

  She slurped my face.

  "Hungry?"

  She plopped down, raced to the kitchen. I filled her bowl with kibble. It flew across the floor as she gobbled it up.

  "I'm going now," I said to her.

  She wasn't listening.

  Taking a deep breath, I smoothed down my zippered sweatshirt and felt the embroidery of the camisole beneath it.

  I was definitely weak where Bobby was concerned, but I didn't care.

  I smiled and took the plate of cookies I'd made down from the top of the refrigerator—out of BeBe's reach. I left a note for Riley and Kit.

  Outside, the wind whipped down the street. Fallen leaves rustled along the ground.

  Lights blazed in Bobby's house. He hadn't yet hung blinds or curtains, so I could easily see inside. I made a mental note to have him do it after we ate. I knew Mr. Cabrera had a telescope.

  There was a spring in my step despite the chill in the air. I was halfway across the street when I saw Bobby step out of the kitchen. He wasn't alone.

  I stumbled to a stop.

  Louisa leaned in and gave him a hug. A long one.

  It was probably a good ten seconds that I stood there staring at them before I made a decision.

  It's true that I may be weak where Bobby is concerned, but I'm not stupid.

  I turned around. By the time I reached my front door, I figured I was being irrational. There could be any number of reasons Louisa was with Bobby. Hugging him.

  No reasons I liked, but there could be.

  I just needed some time to think before I headed back over there. Sans cookies. Sans cami.